The Right Partner
by weepingangelofnewnewyork
Summary: Peggy waits for a dance. Steggy one-shot.


_Hey guys! This is my first Avengers fanfiction. Hope you enjoy! =)_

 _~Xx_

* * *

She sat alone at a table in the corner. She was wearing her favorite dress, twisting a delicate, gold bracelet around her wrist, and nervously taking sips from a tall, stemmed wineglass. Beautifully dressed people chatted lightly around her, and she watched longingly as couples swept gracefully past, oblivious to all but the music and one another. Her mind wandered back to one of the first conversations she'd had with him. Steve, before the serum.

"Women aren't exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on," he had said. For some reason that had made her feel sad.

"You must have danced…?" It started as a statement, but ended up a question. He'd looked at his hands awkwardly.

"Well… asking a woman to dance always seemed so terrifying. And the last few years just…" he'd hesitated. "Didn't seem to matter that much." She'd felt a pang of sympathy for him.

He shrugged. "Figured I'd wait."

"For what?"

"Right partner." Then he'd glanced quickly at her before turning away.

And now, she was sitting at the Stork Club, waiting for a promised dance that, deep down, she knew would never happen. Sighing, she took another sip of her wine and glanced at the clock again. Five minutes until eight.

The tired groan of the front door caught her attention, and her heart leapt as a tall, blonde man entered, his head down. A passing group of dancers obscured her vision, and for a moment, she was left peering helplessly through a curtain of skirts and legs. At last, she saw him across the room, his back to her, ordering a drink. It couldn't be Steve. There was no way. It was impossible. But her spirits soared as he turned and caught her staring at him. As quickly as they were risen, her hopes plummeted like a stone, shattering as he made his way toward her, smiling. No, she saw now why it wasn't Steve. Steve held himself straighter, like he was proud to be American, and proud of his efforts to defend his country. The stranger was more careless in his stance as he slumped into the chair next to her. She tried her best to smile at him.

"Might I offer you a dance?" He asked, looking intently at her. And she did long to dance. But not with this man.

"No, but thank you," she answered politely. Wistfully, she looked at the clock again. Three till eight. Suddenly, Steve's voice, unbidden, filled her memory.

"I figured I'd wait."

...

And in a flash, she was back. Back at the former HYDRA Headquarters, recently taken over by the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Waiting anxiously for a call from Steve over the base's intercom system. Then suddenly, the intercom crackled to life and Steve's familiar voice filled the room.

"Come in, this is Captain Rogers, do you read me?"

An SSR member started to answer. "Captain Rogers, what is your– "

She was at his side in an instant. "Steve! Is that you? Are you alright?" She could barely contain her mingled concern and relief. The member left his chair so she could sit.

"Peggy! Schmidt is dead!" Steve sounded excited.

"What about the plane?" She asked quickly. Steve's safety was her only concern now, with Red Skull dead. Steve's voice crackled over the speakers, saying the words she'd been dreading.

"That's a bit tougher to explain."

She tried to make her voice sound optimistic. "Give me your coordinates. I'll find you a safe landing site."

"There's not gonna be a safe landing. But I can try to force it down."

Her heart dropped. She felt helpless, stuck on the ground while he was about to make a dangerous crash landing in a plane, the controls of which were most likely damaged, judging by the focused tone of his voice.

"I – I'll get Howard on the line, she said, thinking quickly and cheering a little. "He'll know what to do."

Steve's voice became terse. "There's not enough time. This thing is moving too fast, and it's heading for New York."

She closed her eyes, knowing him and what he was about to say, and not wanting him to say it. "I gotta put her in the water."

"Please, don't do this," she begged. "We have time. We can work it out." Her voice broke.

"Right now, I'm in the middle of nowhere," his static-filled voice informed her. "If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die."

She closed her eyes, knowing he was right, but trying to think of a reason to argue with him.

"Peggy. This is my choice," he said gently, as if he were reading her mind. The sound of the plane's engines roaring filled the speaker, and she knew with a sinking heart that he had turned it down towards the unforgiving waves.

"Peggy?"

"I'm here."

"I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."

She smiled a little, holding back tears. "Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."

"You got it," Steve agreed.

"Eight o'clock on the dot," she added. "Don't you dare be late," she ordered, a note of pleading creeping into her tone. "Understood?" Fresh tears began rolling down her face.

"You know," said Steve thoughtfully, "I still don't know how to dance."

She had to smile. "I'll show you how. Just be there."

"We'll have the band play something slow," he continued, "I'd hate to step on your– " His voice stopped abruptly, and white static filled the room.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Steve? Steve?" He didn't respond. "Steve?" She asked softly once more, then broke down, not caring, not holding back. She stayed next to the intercom for a long time.

...

A light touch on her arm brought her back to the present. The stranger was still there, looking at her with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Oh yes – thank you," she replied, sniffing a little while he fished for his handkerchief and handed it over. She noticed with a strange relieved pleasure that, while the tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks, they had not done so yet. Quickly, she dabbed at her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized. "Did you ask me something?"

"Only if you're sure you don't want to dance."

She looked at the clock involuntarily once more. It was a minute past eight.

"Yes," she sighed, "I'm sure."

"Who are you waiting for?" He questioned. She downed the rest of her wine and stood before answering.

"The right partner." She left the room as the band started to play something slow.


End file.
